Embryonic, Rockabilly, Polkadotted Fighter Pilots
by Ceiphied Knight
Summary: I can't summarize this story. There are simply not enough adjectives in existence. Originally written and published in 1998 on the DAFT mailing list.


_This story was originally written in 1998. Co-written with a friend, and posted for the first time on this site. I think._

**EMBRYONIC, ROCKABILLY, POLKA-DOTTED FIGHTER PILOTS  
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"Good idea," Drake said sarcastically to Gosalyn as she stood in the Mallard's living room, brandishing a hockey stick.

"But daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!" Gosalyn whined with her ever impressive vocal capacity. "I think a super hero's kid SHOULD go to a super hero convention!"

Drake sighed and rolled his eyes, "Gosalyn, Gosalyn, Gosalyn...you would just end up giving me away or something! And besides...*I* wasn't invited."

Now it was Gosalyn's turn to sigh. "That's why you don't want me to go," she said. "Your pride has been hurt! Geez...just because no one's heard of Darkwing Duck doesn't mean that I shouldn't have fun!"

At this point in the conversation (unfortunately for him), Launchpad strolled in from the kitchen, humming the "Smurfs" theme song. Drake and Gosalyn caught sight of their friend at the same time and practically lynched him.

"Launchpad!" Gosalyn yelled. "Tell dad to let me go..."

"...tell Gosalyn that she's being unreasonable AS USUAL!" Drake all but screamed.

Launchpad blinked in their general direction and then turned and strolled out.

* * * THE NEXT DAY AT THE SUPER HERO CONVENTION...

"Keen gear!" Gosalyn yelled as she bounced up the stairs into the Westyard Hotel where the super hero convention was being held. Drake followed far behind her, grumbling something about corporate hierarchy.

When they entered they saw how many people were dressed as their favorite super hero. Drake noted that no one was dressed as Darkwing Duck. Zorro, yes. Darkwing, no. What was the world coming to?

"Good thing I brought a costume!" Gosalyn called to Drake, already dashing off to the bathroom. On her way, she ran into tall, lanky man wearing a Kiss concert tee-shirt. "Sorry," she mumbled and continued on her way.

The man, as it happened, took no notice of the young red head, He was too busy eyeing a young female duck near the convention stage. 'She's in the perfect spot,' he thought. The man walked past the dorky looking duck in the sweater vest and slipped backstage. Once there, he opened up a small satchel he had been carrying and removed his costume. It was no ordinary costume, of course. Nothing like the convention losers had. His was the real thing. He had always wondered what would happen if a super villain showed up at a super hero convention. Now he would find out. He also removed a small device from the bag. A machine of his own creation. It was going to be a hot time in the cold town tonight. Especially for mid-July.

A few minutes later, Drake groaned when he saw his daughter run out draped from head to toe in a black costume. "What is *that*?" he asked with little conviction.

"It's my costume!" Gosalyn said in a very 'duh!' manner. "I'm the Crimson Quackette!"

"Oh...good."

* * * ABOUT AN HOUR LATER! GIVE OR TAKE A MINUTE...

From the eaves and overhangs above the convention stage, a young figure sat crouched, waiting to make his debut entrance. He couldn't wait to see the faces of all those super-hero-wanna-be civilians when he jumped down and proved that he wasn't just another nerd. 'Wuss,' he thought, angrily. The boy started talking to himself. "They called me mad...they called me insane...they called me Wendell! Well, we'll see who's mad now!" He rolled his eyes at himself. Still 'Wendell the Wuss.' Talking to himself because no one else would listen. Oh, well. They won't be able to ignore him much longer...

"Why me?" Drake was saying to himself (and enlisting odd glances from the people around him).

"You know what you are, Dad? A martyr..." Gosalyn's thought was cut off by a mad cackling from the direction of the stage.

"It is I!" came the cry from a man dressed in a white lab coat, big gloves, huge goggles, and lacy purple socks. "The mad, evil, cynical, diabolical, horrible Dr. Micro Chip! WAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Through the thin white lab coat, Gosalyn thought she could make out a red KISS logo.

"Crud! Crud! Crud!" was the wail heard by all as a man wearing a kilt ran by, flailing his arms.

Drake's spirits immediately rose to gargantuan levels and he said, "This looks like a job for...I have to go to the bathroom." With that, he dashed off.

A very plain looking female duck saw Drake run off and she said, "Wow, he must've really had to go."

Unfortunately for her, the Evil Dr. Micro Chip heard her and exclaimed, "they all laughed at me! But now I will prove my evil prowess! WAHAHAHAHAHA!" He ran to the edge of the stage and pointed a small device at the female duck, "This is my Diabolical Letter Snatcher device! With it, I can remove any letter from any person or any thing that I want to! Right now, I have it set up to steal the letter 'A' from whatever I point it at!"

Everyone gasped. The man in the kilt ran around, being about as useless as a man with big apples for feet. Gosalyn wondered what was taking her dad so long to come flap some terror in the afternoon.

Darkwing still had yet to show up because he was actually locked in the bathroom stall.

After about a minute, people were beginning to come to the conclusion that this Evil Dr. Micro Chip was just a nut in a costume. As they wandered off, Dr. Micro Chip yelled, "you don't believe me? I'll prove it!" Then, he pressed a button on his device and the female duck gave a jump and then went into seizures.

"What did you do?" she gasped, upon having stopped the convulsing.

"I've stolen the 'A' from your name! WAHAHAHAHA...uh...what was your name, again?"

"Justa Duck."

"WAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You mean JUST Duck! WAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Suddenly (and finally) a cloud of blue smoke erupted in the corner and a voice boomed, "I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the best thing since they put the pocket in pita! I am Darkwing Duck!"

But then, before Darkwing could even begin to execute his patented Flying Web Kick, a cloud of green smoke appeared in another corner and a tenor voice cracked, "I am the scary thing that wakes you in the night! I am the fried chicken caught in your teeth! I am the Chickenwing Cluck!"

"You are the *what*? Why are you invading my turf?" Darkwing bellowed at the adolescent rooster that appeared out of the smoke.

Chickenwing strolled forward. He was wearing a costume identical to Darkwing's, except that it was obviously home made and the colors were orange and blue with a dark green hat. His mask was one of its many errors. It was a green bandanna with a couple eye holes cut in it. Darkwing almost had an aneurysm at the hideousness of it. Darkwing also noted that the rooster's extremely short stature didn't exactly make him threatening. Not that Darkwing could really hold a little thing like height against someone.

"This is MY turf now!" the Chickenwing Cluck managed to yell without his voice cracking again.

Darkwing sighed, his patience wearing thin. "Do you mind? You're cramping my style!"

Darkwing then turned to the Evil Dr. Micro Chip who promptly said, "You have a style?"

Chickenwing Cluck jumped in between Darkwing and the Evil Dr. Micro Chip, put his arms up in a muscle man pose and yelled "I MUST SUCCEED!" He then rushed the Dr., forgetting about the onlooking Darkwing. Darkwing shook his head while he watched the kid try to fight the taller Micro Chip. The Dr. looked down at Chickenwing, his floppy dirty blonde hair falling in front of his goggles, and watched as the rooster karate chopped at his legs. Micro Chip sighed and said, "unfortunately, there are no 'A's in your name, 'Chickenwing'...but I will have the 'A' from Darkwing!" Micro Chip brandished his Letter Snatching Device and pointed it threateningly at Darkwing.

Darkwing looked at it and whipped out his gas gun. "Suck gas, evil-doer!"

Micro Chip grabbed 'Just' Duck from her seat. "Put the gun down or I'll steal all her letters and she'll cease to exist! WAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Darkwing looked from 'Just' Duck to the Letter Snatching Device to Micro Chip and said, "You're a lunatic, aren't you?"

"What do you think?" asked Micro Chip.

"HELP ME!" screeched 'Just'. "I'm just an innocent pawn in his path of insanity!"

"I'LL SAVE YOU!" cried Gosalyn from her almost completely obscure place in the corner and rushed at Micro Chip who caught her without letting go of his other hostage.

"Amateurs!" yipped Chickenwing.

Darkwing looked at him and said, "Well, what do you think you are?"

"I'm a professional," he said.

"A professional loon!" said Darkwing and leapt past Chickenwing at Micro Chip. After Darkwing had positioned himself closer to Micro Chip, he looked around and realized that the nut had gotten away. As if that wasn't bad enough, Gosalyn and Justa Duck (that is 'Just' Duck) were also missing. "Great," Darkwing muttered under his breath. He turned back around to yell at Chickenwing, but that little punk was gone, too. "Just great..."

* * *

><p>That night, Darkwing and Launchpad raced through St. Canard on the Ratcatcher, hoping to pick up the trail of Dr. Micro Chip.<p>

*Or whatever his real name is* reflected Darkwing, angrily.

He glanced at the guest list for the convention he'd gotten from the hotel manager. He'd decided that they would go look for the duck who ran around in a kilt screaming "Crud!" That was the only person there who actually seemed to take this Evil Dr. Micro Chip seriously. He must know something. Everyone else seemed to think this was a big joke. Who could possibly take anyone who wore purple lacy socks seriously?

They arrived at the work place of Kilt-boy whose real name was Rudy McDouken. The bright neon sign indicated that the place was called 'Chips 'R Us.'

"The resident computer geek store," said Darkwing. "I should have known."

Once inside, Darkwing went to question the cashier and Launchpad went to stand in awe of such magnificent machinery.

The cashier shifted uncomfortably when he saw them and tried to hide the kilt he was wearing.

Darkwing addressed the man behind the counter. "I need to speak to Rudy McDouken."

The duck avoided eye contact and said with a thick Scottish accent, "He doesn't work here."

"I have this little piece of paper over here telling me that he does."

"Well, if you take all your advice from little pieces of paper, then I don't know what to tell you," said the duck, relatively unconcerned. "Just the fact that the paper is talking to you...disturbing."

"The paper isn't talking to me! It is written down. I read it. Got it?" cried Darkwing. "Now I want to talk to Rudy McDouken."

"I'm telling you," the duck said again. "He doesn't wo..."

A loud crash interrupted him. They turned see Launchpad next to a fallen computer. "Oops. Sorry, DW."

The cashier went postal. He ran from behind the counter, kicking up his kilt and flailing his arms, screaming, "CRUD! CRUD! CRUD! CRUD!"

Darkwing grabbed him. "You're Rudy McDouken. Why were you trying to deny it? You should've known I wasn't stupid enough to fall for that pitiful plan!"

"I don't think lying makes for a plan," said Launchpad.

Rudy hit himself continually in the head, "Stupid corndog! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!"

"Tell me everything you know about this Evil Dr. Micro Chip," said Darkwing.

"Well...," started Rudy. "Goes by the name of Guiseppe Eduardo Galzerano. Juicy for short. Comes in here all the time. He works at the Bran - O - Rama down by Suzanne's Primitiff. Went pretty crazy a while back. Don't know what set him off," he paused, then leaned to Darkwing and whispered. "When he got that crazy idea for the Diabolical Letter Snatcher device, I was the first one he tried it on. Let's just say my name used to be MACDouken."

* * *

><p>"NO BRAN MUFFIN FOR YOU!" screamed the duck behind the counter of the Bran-O-Rama. The female dog who had requested the bran muffin in question burst into tears and ran from the store just as Darkwing and Launchpad walked in.<p>

"We're looking for Guiseppe Galzerano. We heard he works here. When's he in?"

"Juicy, huh? He's not going to be in," said the duck, his floppy hair falling in front of his eyes. "He's been fired."

Darkwing looked momentarily peeved, knowing that this will require him to do more work, and then asked, "Well, then...where does he live?"

Darkwing was pushed aside by a teenaged chicken. "Yeah, where does he live?"

Darkwing, Launchpad and the duck behind the counter all looked at him in shock. Who is this punk? And, more importantly, why was he wearing plaid pants, a periwinkle shirt, a snowman sweater and goulashes? It was mid-July!

The boy, noticing the vacant stares, said, "He, um, owes me change."

The duck behind the counter straightened his KISS T-shirt proudly, "I di...He did not! He was very good at his work. Until he got fired, I mean."

"Who are you anyway, kid?" asked Launchpad.

"They call me Wendell," the kid said.

"You a good kid, Wendy?" asked the duck behind the counter mockingly.

"I rule the roost," sighed Wendell, his sudden surge of confidence squashed. Why, oh, why did he even bother?

"Look!" said Darkwing, vexed at this nonsensical discussion. "Can we get back to the topic here? Where does Guiseppe Galzerano live?"

"You got a warrant?" asked the duck.

"Warrant," Darkwing repeated slowly.

"Yeah, a warrant. You know that thing you need if you're going to arrest somebody," answered the duck.

Darkwing laughed nervously. "What makes you think we're going to arrest him?"

"Probably beat him up a little. Foil his evil plan for world domination. Free his prisoners. That sort of thing. Not really arresting," said Launchpad.

"Launchpad!" warned Darkwing. Launchpad shrugged.

"I can't tell you where he lives then. Darn the luck. Darn!" said the duck, obviously not disappointed.

"You HAVE to tell me!" cried Wendell. "Please! He owes me change! I DIDN'T GET MY CHANGE!"

Darkwing dumped a handful of coins into Wendell's hand. "Here! Take MY change! Now would you PLEASE go away!"

Wendell looked from the pile of coins to Darkwing to the duck behind the counter. He turned to walk out the door. A moment of inspiration hit poor little Wendell. No one ever listened to him. Well, listen to this! He whirled around, "CURSE YOUR TINY PAPER HAT!" With that he stomped out the door, satisfied that he'd gotten the last word.

Darkwing turned back to the duck behind the counter, shaking his head in disgust. "Now that I got him out of the way. Where does Galzerano live?"

"Can't tell you," he said. "You'll have to find out some other way."

Darkwing glared at him then stomped through the door, frustrated. Launchpad followed.

The duck behind the counter grinned, satisfied. He looked down at his lacy purple socks which neither the daring Darkwing Duck nor his sidekick nor the geeky teen had noticed. They were the only part of his costume he hadn't taken off.

*Try to foil MY plans, will they?*

* * *

><p>Outside Bran-O-Rama, Darkwing stood, silently fuming, next to a relatively apathetic Launchpad.<p>

"So, DW," started Launchpad. "What now?"

"What now? What NOW? Is that what you're asking me? WHAT NOW?" Darkwing freaked out. "We're going to find this Dr. Micro Chip and kick his sorry...!"

"I AM THE SCARY THING THAT WAKES YOU IN THE NIGHT! I AM THE FUZZ YOUR SOCKS LEAVE ON YOUR FEET! I AM THE CHICKENWING CLUCK!" The green-and-blue clad chicken leapt from an alley.

"You again! Go away! You're just gumming up the crime-fighting works!" Darkwing yelled, directing his anger at Chickenwing.

"I am not!"

"Oh, really? Then what ARE you doing? You got two civilians kidnapped by a raving loon who's stealing letters from his victims!"

"I'm just trying to help! At least, *I* know how to catch this crook!" Chickenwing stated proudly.

Darkwing regarded the young chicken with skepticism. The ugly cape, the crooked mask, the soiled goulashes. Darkwing rolled his eyes. "You forgot to take off your goulashes, Wendell."

Chickenwing panicked. "What? Who's Wendell? Me? No, I'm not Wendell. I've never been in Bran-O-Rama, I've never heard of Guiseppe Eduardo Galzerano, I've never even heard of Darkwing Duck and I certainly do NOT have a shrine to him in my bedroom, the kitchen, the living room, the basement, my secret laboratory, the broom closet or the subway station! And I DEFINITELY DO NOT wash with a Darkwing Duck soap-on-a-rope!"

For a moment there was total silence except for the slight sound effects of Darkwing blinking in shock; and Launchpad thought he caught a whiff of Darkwing Brand Soap. Chickenwing continued uncertainly. "So, you see, I couldn't *possibly* be Wendell. Heh heh."

"Right...um...I'm just going to smile and nod and back away slowly," Darkwing said to the increasingly creepy little kid.

"Wow, DW," Launchpad said. "You've always wanted a fan, and now you have one! Well, there's me and Gos and Honker and your mom...but I think this kid is *much* more sincere."

Darkwing shot Launchpad a look of warning and then turned back to Chickenwing. "Look, kid, I understand what it's like to want to be a super hero...but the difference between you and me is that I *am* and YOU ARE JUST A LITTLE PUNK!" With that, Darkwing spun around and hopped onto the Ratcatcher. Launchpad followed suit. As the Ratcatcher sped away to its next destination, Wendell found himself running along behind it for half a block...after that, he ran out of breath and practically collapsed on the sidewalk.

"Oh, great," he mumbled to himself. "I have a stitch in my side and I've lost my freshness." Wendell stood up and dusted off his gaudy outfit, saying, "I'll show Darkwing Duck that I'm a hero! I'll just go to Guiseppe's apartment and get the hostages back before Darkwing can even *find* the place! This is Darkwing's fault!" As Wendell went in search of a phone book, he started to feel better. Placing the blame for his own embarrassment on someone else was a great way to work up the old ego! Not that Wendell had an ego, mind you. Only the Chickenwing Cluck had an ego. And he was about to try and make it bigger.

* * *

><p>"We don't want any!" a chubby female goose screamed at Darkwing and Launchpad and slammed her door in their collective faces. Darkwing sighed and began to walk away. This woman was the fifth person to do that to him in less than ten minutes and he never even got the chance to tell them he wasn't selling anything!<p>

"Are you sure Guiseppe lives in this area?" Launchpad asked for the hundreth time in that same ten minute span.

"No...I'm not sure," Darkwing said. "But it's the best I could come up with! I mean, don't you think he'd live in the basic area where he works?" Launchpad shrugged and said nothing. Darkwing knocked on another door.

"Yes?" came the squeaky reply from behind the door.

"Citizen!" Darkwing yelled. "This is Darkwing Duck speaking! I'm searching for a felon named Guiseppe Eduardo Galzerano...he is considered armed and dangerous! Do you know where I can find him?"

Silence.

"Hello?" Launchpad called.

Nothing.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door creaked open and a short dog...rat...weasel (the same kinda thing as Megavolt) peeked out. "So what if I do?" he said.

"So what if you do what?" Darkwing asked.

"So what if I know where you can find Juicy?"

"Who?"

"Juicy."

"Who's that?"

"Eduardo."

"Huh?"

"Galzerano."

"What about him?"

The...rat-thing grabbed Darkwing by his jacket collar and yanked him inside. He slammed the door in Launchpad's face, so the dutiful sidekick just sat down on the front steps to wait.

Inside, the rat released Darkwing's jacket and said, "My name's Buzz." Buzz then pointed to a small cage in the corner of the room and said, "And that's Sammy...Juicy's best friend."

"Who?" Darkwing asked again.

Buzz turned red and screamed, "Guiseppe! We call him 'Juicy'...okay?"

Darkwing nodded, numbly. He then walked over to the cage and peered inside. "It's a gerbil," he stated, flatly.

"Not just any gerbil," corrected Buzz. "Sammy's a blind gerbil...and he's Juicy's best friend. If you find one, you've found the other. Get my meaning?"

"Nope, sorry, don't follow," said Darkwing.

Buzz hit his head with his hand and breathed, "Look...what I'm trying to tell you is that Guiseppe Eduardo Galzerano lives here and I'm his roommate and you can use Sammy there to get Guiseppe to behave, okay?"

"Ooohhhhhhh," Darkwing said and opened up Sammy's cage door. Just as he was about to lift the gerbil out, someone came bursting through the door.

"I am the scary thing that wak-" Chickenwing stopped mid-word and blinked at Darkwing. "How did *you* get here?" he yelled.

"By bike," Darkwing scoffed, "...Wendell..."

"Who is this Wendell?" Chickenwing screamed. Sammy let out a shriek and hid in his little fun tube.

"Great," Darkwing said to Chickenwing. "Look what you did! You scared the blind gerbil! This thing was my key to cracking this case!"

"What?" asked Chickenwing.

"That there gerbil is Juicy's best friend and he could take you to where he is," said Buzz.

"Oh," said Chickenwing. "Let ME handle this."

Darkwing rolled his eyes but made way for the chicken to access the cage. Chickenwing started making chirping noises and held out a yummy gerbil food pellet. Sammy sniffed his way towards the pellet and Chickenwing's waiting hand. "Got 'im!" cried Chickenwing. Buzz handed him a leash and Chickenwing expertly slipped it around the gerbil's neck.

"Oh, sure," said Darkwing. "Bribe him. That always works. For amateurs."

Buzz addressed the gerbil, "Sammy, the nice men want to find Juicy. Can you help them?" Sammy made various squeaking noises. "He says yes," said Buzz.

"Great!" Chickenwing exulted. "Oh, and you might want this," He handed Buzz Guiseppe's Bran-O-Rama name tag.

"So that's how you knew!" Darkwing yelled.

Chickenwing gulped, loudly. "Nevermind that," he said. "We have a villain to vanquish! Onward, Sammy!"

* * *

><p>Two crimefighters and a sidekick raced along the streets of St. Canard, following the gerbil on the leash.<p>

"I can't believe my crimefighting career has come to this," Darkwing panted. "I'm following a gerbil to solve a crime."

"Hey," said Chickenwing. "It's all we've got."

"What's all this we stuff?" asked Darkwing. "And how did you know where Guiseppe lived?"

"Phone book," answered Chickenwing.

"Gee, DW," interjected Launchpad. "We should do that next time. You know, instead of knocking on random people's doors."

Darkwing looked embarrassed for a millisecond then noticed the gerbil had stopped running. "We're here," he said.

They looked up at the sign. It was a storefront.

"Suzanne's Primitiff," said Chickenwing. "Weren't we just here?"

They looked at the store next door. Bran-O-Rama. "Yep," said Darkwing. "Dr. Micro Chip is beginning to get on my nerves."

"YEAH!" Chickenwing cried, happily. "Let's go get him!" He started for the door. Darkwing grabbed him by the cape.

"Not so fast, cowboy. The first thing you must have to fight crime is the element of surprise."

* * *

><p>Dr. Micro Chip danced gleefully around his two letter-losing, bound-and-gagged victims.<p>

"So, Jut, Golyn, what do you think of my wonderfully evil plan? Am I not pure magnificence?" He waved his letter-snatching device in front of them and said, "Nyah. No one can save you now!" and commenced his evil laughter once again.

Jut whimpered weakly in her corner. Golyn rolled her eyes and spit out her gag, "Darkwing Duck will get here and then you'll be sorry!"

Micro Chip laughed, "Please! Darkwing Duck will be rendered helpless by my merciless army of Embryonic, Rockabilly, Polka-dotted Fighter Pilots!" He gestured to a group of tiny bran muffins with raisins. They each wore a little pilot hat like Launchpad's and had tiny guns in the shape of a microphone.

"I am the scary thing that wakes you in the night! I am the chocolate bar that melts in your pocket! I am the Chickenwing Cluck!" Chickenwing appeared from a puff of green smoke. "You have stolen the letters of innocent convention-goers! And, in the name of my PC hard drive, I'll punish you!"

Micro Chip looked at him quizzically and said, "What?"

Chickenwing merely laughed.

Micro Chip turned from Chickenwing and addressed his muffin army. "Embryonic Rockabilly Polka-dotted Fighter Pilots! Attack!"

With that, the bran muffins gave a simultaneous lurch and began to advance on Chickenwing. Micro Chip cackled hysterically and pulled out a toy gas gun he had gotten with two proofs of purchase from a box of Frosted Flakes. "Suck dough!" he screamed from behind his muffin briggade and aimed the gun at Chickenwing.

Then, suddenly, Chickenwing saw two feathered hands raise a cookie sheet above Micro Chip's head and slam it down. Micro Chip did a 360 and klunked face-first onto the floor inside Suzanne's Primitiff.

"Darkwing! Help me!" yelled Chickenwing as the bran muffins continued to move in closer.

"Coming, Wendell!" Darkwing called in a sing-song way and grabbed the Letter Snatching Device out of Micro Chip's limp hand before heading over to Chickenwing. Chickenwing was backed up in a corner, surrounded by an angry pack of heedless bran muffins.

"Launchpad!" Darkwing yelled.

Launchpad dutifully galloped over. "Whaddaya need, DW?"

"Eat those bran muffins!" ordered Darkwing.

Launchpad began stuffing the muffins into his mouth at least eight at a time. It didn't even occur to him to remove their hats before doing so. Leather is good for the digestive tract.

Launchpad began to develop unsightly hives. "These didn't have raisins in them, did they, DW?"

"Of course not!" lied Darkwing. "I know you're allergic."

Chickenwing leapt skillfully over the remaining few muffins and asked, "What now, Darkwing?"

"Now you deal with me!" screeched a cheesed-off, slightly dented Micro Chip.

"Watch it! One more step and I'll steal all your letters!" yelled Darkwing, brandishing the Letter Snatcher.

"No! No, please! Anything but that! Not MY LETTERS!" Micro Chip pleaded desperately.

"Free the hostages, evil-doer!" cried Chickenwing.

"OK, fine. Just don't steal my letters!" He quickly untied Jut and Golyn.

"About time you got here, Darkwing," said Golyn.

Darkwing hit the conveniently labeled reverse switch on the Letter Snatcher.

Justa smiled and said, "I feel much stronger now. I didn't realize just how important letters are."

In all the excitement, Darkwing hadn't noticed that Micro Chip was trying to flee into the distance. "Stop right there," he said and whipped out his handy-dandy handcuffs.

* * *

><p>"Yep, yep, yep," sighed Darkwing and Chickenwing as they stepped out of the police station.<p>

"You know, Darkwing," said Chickenwing, "I don't think I'm going to be Chickenwing anymore. Just Wendell. At least for a few more years. Until we can be partners!"

Darkwing looked a little weary, "Mmhmm."

"But you know what I will do? I'm gonna stand up to those bullies at school who call me Wendell the Wuss! Yeah!" continued Chickenwing, oblivious to the fact Darkwing, Gosalyn and Launchpad were backing away slowly. As they faded off into the distance then sped off in the Ratcatcher, Chickenwing continued blithering to himself, "And you know...I think I'll stop wearing those goulashes everyday...They're a real hazard when it comes to..."

**The End**

_Author's Note: Reading this cracks me up. Can YOU count the number of quotes we stole from Freakazoid? Ah, to be young and easily amused. Actually, I'm still pretty easily amused._ _Embryonic, Rockabilly, Polka-dotted Fighter Pilots are technically copyright of classic Conan O'Brien. Those were the days! Go Team Conan!_


End file.
